


The Weight of Memory

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: Cuddling Drabbles [7]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, OT3, Short & Sweet, Writer Bill Denbrough, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 05:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20688248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: Bill feels like he's one foot out the door already.





	The Weight of Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the cuddle prompts list: https://visionarygalaxy.tumblr.com/post/187541345666/cuddling-prompts 
> 
> Eighteen: Crying

Bill woke to the sensation of grief, heavy in his chest, and familiar tear tracks staining and pulling at the skin of his cheeks. For a long moment he said nothing, did nothing, staring at the high, vaulted ceiling above him. Bill was starting to find this routine tiresome as he glanced to the side, taking in the shapes of his lovers. They were twined together, a common occurrence since Bill began slipping from the bed regularly. He ignored the longing that caused too.

Bill sat up slowly and lowered his socked to feet to the polished hard-wood floors. He still wasn’t used to the opulence of Bev and Ben’s lifestyle, far more used to his cozy little office and compact home he’d left behind. Grabbing his laptop and glasses, in case the writing bug bit him, he quietly made his way toward the back deck.

It was warm, he had checked before going to sleep, and he had every intention of taking advantage of it while the others slept on. Bill lowered his himself onto the padded bench and stared out at the woodland. They had picked this house together, filled with love and hope for a new future but now…well Bill had always been a realist.

Sometimes he thought it was just a matter of days until he picked up his suitcase instead of his laptop.

Beverly and Ben could be very happy together. She would always be taken care of and Ben would never be lonely again. A perfect match and temperaments that were ideal for a long and successful marriage. Bill absently twisted the ring on his finger, already worn from the number of times he had rubbed at the soft gold.

Memories of Georgie, of Stan, of Ed rose up before his eyes and Bill bit his lip in a vain attempt at subduing the stinging in his eyes. It was hopeless of course, fresh tears following the old ones down his cheeks. Bill took a shaky breath, tried to banish memories of grotesque laughing lips and too many funerals.

He had never been able to understand why so many people in his life looked up to him, trusted him when all he’d ever done was fail again and again. Part of him still regretted forcing the Losers into their pact to return to Derry, even knowing the thousands of children they’ve saved.

“Bill?”

Startled, he looked up to find Ben, clad only in boxers and a grey t-shirt standing in the patio doorway, rubbing at his eyes. The man looked exhausted, he had far too many late-night meetings these past weeks as he pushed for the new apartment complex design. The thought of being responsible for waking him was almost too much to bear among the weight pushing down his shoulders tonight.

“Go back to b-b-bed B-Ben, I-I-I’m f-fine.”

There was a sigh and Bill didn’t even blame him. His stutter betraying him yet again. Part of Bill had hoped that it would disappear again once they left Derry, but he had no such luck. It stuck around like a bad habit during times of heavy emotion.

Ben wandered closer, a little unstable on his feet and forcing Bill to bite back a small smile at the adorable sight. He sunk down onto the bench next to him and instinctively pressed close to his side, one arm looping around Bill’s waist. He let himself lean into the embrace, happy to find this small bit of comfort.

At one time, this would have been unimaginable. The two of them had been reluctant rivals for Beverly’s affection as children, though Bill had never dared go to far with it. He knew Ben had resented him all the same, a feeling that he couldn’t blame him for. Now, however, well they were no longer vying for attention but had instead, become partners in a relationship that felt almost too fitting. Sometimes Bill felt unfairly petty and wondered why Ben had settled with him at all and if it was only so he could keep Beverly. He tried to be better than that though.

“Want to talk about it?” Ben asked quietly.

“Nothing to t-t-talk about. Same old.”

There was a pause and Bill knew he was weighing his words carefully, always so considerate, “this is the fifth time in a row you’ve come out here after a nightmare.”

“M-m-m-m-” Bill closed his eyes against his frustration, gritted his teeth and forced the damn word out. “M-memories. Not nightmares.”

Ben lifted a hand to run through his hair and despite himself, Bill closed his eyes and relaxed into the touch. It was almost embarrassing how astute Ben was when it came to him and Beverly, always knowing just what to do to calm them down. This was further exemplified by the lack of words. There was nothing to be said to aid with those memories and Bill was thankful he didn’t even try.

They sat there, pressed closely together, under twinkling stars and the shadowed forest in silence. Bill didn’t tell him to go back to bed, knowing the suggestion would be ignored and he didn’t ask to be alone because he wasn’t sure he wanted that at the moment. Instead, he locked his eyes on the treetops and waited patiently for first light to come up and over.

When it did finally happen, it was like breaking a spell. Ben shifted, arms squeezing around him in a way that seemed more then just affectionate. Bill had a feeling he knew exactly what Ben wanted to say even before the first words left his lips.

“Beverly is scared.”

Bill hummed.

“She’s scared you’re going to leave us.”

Bill let his eyes fall closed, tried not to think about how the ‘us’ resonated in his heart. At the moment his suitcase was under the bed in which Beverly slept, cleaned out and almost waiting to be filled once again. In his closet, his clothes were recently organized into two sections, staying and going. On his laptop, the search history was dotted with briefly glanced at apartments and holiday spots, almost entirely in and around Derry. He was half out the door already.

“I don’t know.”

There was a sharp intake of breath and Ben’s arms really did go decidedly tighter, as though he could make Bill stay with his might alone, “do you still love us?”

A stupid question but Bill had always been patient, “Y-yes.”

“Then stay. Let’s us help. We need you.”

Bill always seemed to be needed for some reason or another, by everyone. He couldn’t fathom why. Yet, the sound of Ben pleading in his ear, voice tight with emotion and body trembling next to his, felt…for the first time, like a stronger pull then the constant memories of Derry. He thought of Beverly and the inevitable fear in her eyes when she wakes up alone in their bed, the sound of her trembling voice calling out their names.

He thought of Georgie and Stan and Eddie who would never get the chance at their happy ending and all that he owed them for the role he played in it all. Bill didn’t want to go, not really, he simply felt that he should, that it was better for everyone.

Sitting there as the sun fell over them both and streamed through the window that led to their bedroom, most of his fears abated. Perhaps, it was time to let someone else look after him and stop being responsible for everyone. It was a foreign sensation to consider, yet Bill found himself turning toward Ben and pressed in his face into the crook of his neck and murmuring; “o-o-okay.”


End file.
